


the glaciers made you and now you're mine

by havisham



Category: Captain America (2011), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Modern Era, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-04
Updated: 2012-08-04
Packaged: 2017-11-11 10:15:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Bucky are the forever kind of lovers.  (And it’s really kind of terrible for them.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	the glaciers made you and now you're mine

Bucky, lost, beloved, recovered (brainwashed, an assassin with unknown body-count), sits hunched over, the knobs of his spine painfully present and pressed tight against his skin. Steve wants to -- gently tell him, “Buck, you gotta eat more.” But. Time and place.

Bucky bites his lip and lifts his head and glares. This levels Steve instantly, like a city-block crumbling against the fists of a green-skinned rage monster. (Hey, Bruce is a pretty good friend now, Steve chides himself, he shouldn’t make such unflattering comparisons.) 

Bucky says, “Stop thinking about me.” 

Steve, reflexively honestly, says, “I never could stop.”

(Thoughts of Bruce quickly subside.) 

His thumb circles Bucky’s chin, and teases the cleft of it with a fingernail. Bucky pulls away, scoffing. “You know, it always gets me how much you --” 

Steve leans down and kisses him. “-- Don’t want to talk about things.” 

Steve pulls away, genuinely baffled. “What do you want to talk about?” 

“You can’t think of a _single_ thing?” 

Steve collapses into the bed next to Bucky with a groan. The mattress dips dangerously down, and Bucky rolls amiably next to him, his metal arm cool against Steve’s skin. They’re very close now, and Steve traces a lazy finger from the tip of Bucky’s chin, down to his neck and then his chest (he skims over the scars) and lays a flat hand on Bucky’s stomach. He can feel him breathe, the rise and fall of his chest, the vague rumble of some faint pang of hunger. “I’m not used to this. Not yet. Words don’t seem enough, somehow.” 

Bucky exhales sharply. But he tries for patience as he explains, “They don’t trust me.” 

It’s to Steve’s credit that he doesn’t ask _who_. “They’ll learn to. Natasha already does. And they already know that I would trust you with my life.” And somehow, Bucky has shifted so he’s not so much beside Steve as he is on top of him, straddling him. Steve pushed himself up, so they’re face-to-face, more or less. 

“You’re wrong about Natasha, she knows what I’m capable of. And they’re right, not to trust me.” And he grinds down, to prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt that _Steve_ is the one that who is wrong, wrong, _wrong_. 

“ _Bucky_ ,” and Steve’s voice is -- distraught -- or something. He’s gasping, his hands gripping Bucky’s hips, his eyes go unfocused for a second. And Bucky kisses the hollows of his throat, and Steve lapses into a noisy silence. He tracks Bucky’s movements, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide open and impossibly blue. 

Bucky could pour all his frustration, hurt and guilt (he had so much of that) into Steve, who would take it all and return back to him acceptance, faith and love (he had so much of that), and they could keep this up forever. 

(They have forever, now, or at least longer than they had before.)

Steve’s hands slide down Bucky’s hips, and he -- pauses, and begins to paw around the bed with his left hand and Bucky is thrown off, until Steve says, his voice cracking a little in desperation, “The lube, the _lube_.” And together they look for it, and find it behind the bedside table. Steve remembers that there are condoms in his pocket -- Bucky narrows his eyes, “Were you expecting this?” And Steve is smug when he says, “How could your guilt ever be predictable?” 

When Bucky finds the condoms -- Steve doesn’t help, he lies content on his side, watching Bucky -- and catches it when Bucky flicks it to him. “Unbelievable,” Bucky says. 

“It was Tony’s idea -- you should see Natasha’s -- and you know, it sells well,” Steve says, ripping through the red, white and blue shield that made up its logo. “It’s a logical continuation of what --” 

“Yeah?” Bucky brightens up, “Yeah, I remember those. You sure had the guys running sacred about the dangers of VD, Cap.” And his grin sharpens, “And loose women. Didn’t say a thing about bad men though.” 

“Well, we all make mistakes, _aahh_ \--” Steve pulls him closer, and buries his face in Bucky’s neck. His mouth is hot and wet against Bucky’s skin. “But you’re wrong about the plurals.” 

\+ 

And when Steve comes, his blunted nails rake down Bucky’s back. Thoughts rush in and become tangled up, but he knows there’s possession and want and need -- 

“You’re mine,” he finds himself saying, later, his hand on Bucky’s face, and Bucky closes his eyes, in defeat or acceptance, Steve can’t tell because there’s -- 

His cellphone ringing -- “The Star-Spangled Banner” (that’ll be Tony) and Bucky is too far away to accidentally crush it (again) -- and yes, aliens, Central Park, Avengers assemble. 

_Got it?_

**Author's Note:**

> Title from The Great Lake Swimmers’ “Your Rocky Spine”.


End file.
